


Grace

by baranduin



Series: Elanor of Westmarch [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosie's death seen through the eyes of her daughter Elanor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace

There was a sweetness to those last days that, at first, caught Elanor by surprise. Later, even many years later, when the sharpness of her sorrow had faded as all sorrows do fade with the gentle relentlessness of time, the sweetness came back to her many times; it always unfurled into full glory. She never could tell when it would happen or what would prompt it, but all of a sudden her heart would open with a poignant joy and sing the dearest name of all: Rose.

_“Shall I put another log on the fire?” Elanor asked one dark, cold night when it was just the two of them together in the bedroom. It was storming outside Bag End. The wind was high and a freezing rain was falling, slanting against the window with a sharp, constant rapping. She sat on the bed and peered at her mother. Was she awake? Had Rose even heard her soft question? The turmoil outside was so loud and her voice so low. Oh, what a strange marvel to have the weather match what was happening in your own heart._

_Rose opened her eyes and smiled up at Elanor. She said, “I’ve a better idea,” and shifted a little in the bed. “Fresh logs on a fire are good, but never so warming as a cuddle.”_

_That frightened Elanor. Rose’s body was so frail now, her bones brittle, her flesh fallen away except for her stomach, which was swollen in a cruel mockery of imminent birth, though the newborn would be Rose herself as she left all she knew and loved and entered into her new life beyond the bounds of Arda. Elanor said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_Rose’s eyes were bright with something … not fever, the thing eating away inside her caused little fever (at least so far) … not pain, the healer from Bree made sure of that with her sticky bittersweet potions. But there was something that shone from Rose’s eyes with intense want … oh._

_“Hurt me? How could you do that? Come on.” And it was her mother’s old voice, almost her old teasing, impatient, healthy voice._

_So Elanor lay on the bed with her mother and held her in her arms, rocking her gently and stroking her soft hair. At one point, Rose murmured with a sort of wonder in her voice, “Who is mother now?” and Elanor whispered, “Sssssh … sleep, my darling, I’ve got you. I’ll keep you warm.” She wanted to say, “I’ll keep you safe,” but safety was a thing of the past during these days of Rose’s mysterious journey. Or perhaps it wasn’t; perhaps it just shifted to mean something else, something elusive that Elanor kept searching for as she kept searching for just the right spoonful of soup or bite of toast to tempt Rose’s waning appetite._

_They lay together, now sleeping, now whispering with words that Elanor kept secret in her heart all the rest of her long life. In the middle of the night, Sam crept inside the bedroom, woke Elanor with a gentle shake and traded places with her._

For a short while after Rose’s death, Elanor imagined going through the same motions with her father. She did not think she could bear it again, both the sweetness and the agony, all entwined in a sacred bond. Later, after Sam left, she did not know what to think, so she did not think much at all, that is, not of such deep things, not of such sweet sorrowful things that made the hole inside her ache with a constant throbbing that said, “Gone is gone … gone is gone … gone …” 

She was not prepared for the sweetness of the memory of that time to open again within her. It near knocked the breath out of her when it happened the first time, when she lay down with her youngest grandchild to comfort him through a sharp case of measles, and the sensation of being with her darling mother filled her soul with almost unbearable joy. There was a light scent of roses in the air and Elanor swore to herself (no need to tell anyone, no need at all) that she heard her mother’s voice whispering in her ear, “Not gone forever … not gone forever … not forever …” and then, “Sleep now, my daughter, we will meet again … again … again …”

And that was only the beginning of the grace she was to receive.

**Author's Note:**

> For Laura Mason (lorie945). Never forgotten. Always missed. With love.


End file.
